The house has officially been up for sale for about a month now. Everything was pretty much the same… until today when my parent’s took the washer and dryer. :/ Hmm.

I made some flat-bread this evening with a little olive oil sauce. That other stuff is hummus - original and red pepper. Oh yeah, and that huge styrofoam monstrosity is Dr Pepper. That’s my attempt at not buying cans at the store in order to not drink it. Unfortunately, I’m failing.

This is Version 2 of the Gluten-Free Berry Stellas. They’re more solid than the first round. I used more flower, less oatmeal, and I made the oatmeal with water instead of milk. I also cut up the raspberries and blackberries into tiny pieces. I decided to use cupcake thingies because it’s less mess.

Also, that’s all there is left… I think my mom must really like them.

Also bought 2 more hermit crabs. I thought they were a different species, but after looking at the more, I think they’re the same Caribbeans (PPs) as before. Oh well. No names yet.

There’s this lady at a church out in Athens whose daughter lives in Dallas. She works at a law firm, but does photography on the side. After hearing a bit about her, she sounds a lot like me… I’m praying that she may be able to find me a lead on a legal job downtown. Here’s hoping!

Since Mom’s taking more and more appliances out to the farm… I’m beginning to gather my own. I want to go antiquing this week (for Depression glass) if anyone wants to go with me! I’m also looking for a decently priced KitchenAid Mixer. It’s so exciting to get tupperware, corningware, flatware… and other wares.

I went to the DMA last night. One man tried to force a flower on me, then tried to coerce me into kissing one of my companions for another. Then requested to know which one of them I was dating. Talk about awkward. Then a homeless man lectured my companions and me about how not all homeless people are bad, and also that women are always right. Then, another homeless lady requested funding for about 3 minutes, while continually expelling smoke from every orifice on her person - yet I never saw her take a puff of her cigarette. I also met a young man on the DART who had been working on a full suit of tattoos for 11 years. He thought he could get to Austin in a couple of hours… hmm, not so much.

I have a lot to post about, but I’ve been busy, so I’ve been putting it off. However, tonight I have overcome… only to bring you this:

Do you know what this is?

Lacy and Que do. They already met The Pupae. If I recall correctly, when they figured out what was occupying the mason jar lid on my kitchen counter, screams ensued.

Tonight, I screamed, too. Why? Because one of those cocoons is empty.

Backstory: A few weeks ago, my mom plucked two big, juicy, green caterpillars off of her moonflower plant; they were eating it alive. She put them in a jar and figured they’d die. We thought one died for sure, then maybe the other had died. But… they kept moving. Caterpillars are resilient creatures! They kept living. Then, they turned brown and we thought for sure they’d died. But no, Mom dumped them out of the jar and they wiggled around in their new brown cases, looking strangely like they should be hanging from trees. They actually moved when provoked for several days (as [Que|que] discovered). But, after quite a while of just sitting there in their cocoons, I knew for sure they’d died. Much like posting on Pleonast, I was procrastinating taking their picture. And as tonight proves, I waited an hour too late.

Just a little while ago, I was downstairs looking at the pupae! I even prodded one looking for movement! Then, I came downstairs to get some dessert… and one was open.

Not only was it open…

…but there was goo on the counter, and the floor…

So I called my Mom, “Mom! The Pupae have hatched! It’s somewhere in the house! This is really creepy!”

“Well, it’s probably a really big moth.”

“Thanks a lot, Mom! I can’t find it! I’ve turned on the kitchen light to maybe draw it - AHHH! There it is!!!”

It doesn’t look that big in the picture, but he’s a good 3 inches or so. Oh man. OH MAN.

After I roped it into a big ol’ tupperware and threw it outside, I didn’t take any chances with the other pupae. It went outside, too.

Gross-o-rama.

…or maybe it’s just me. Remember when you’re not feeling well, and you call your mom, and she just makes it worse by the simple fact that she’s your mom, and then you start crying and wishing you could crawl down to the bottom of your bedsheets and stay there? But really you’re in public?

If you had been at the Preston & Forest Starbucks Thursday afternoon, you would have seen me doing just that.

Shortly after I made that post below (about Henry), I headed out to the new Petland on Preston to see if they had hermit crabs. I would have called, but the website didn’t have their phone number. When I got close to the store, I noticed I was having trouble focusing. Then as I parked, I noticed I was really dizzy. Then, as I knelt beside the sad crab habitat, I almost fell over and took the plexiglass box with me.

As I got back in the car and leaned my forehead on my steering wheel and turned the A/C way up, I thought, “I should call someone to drive me home.”

I thought, “Who might be near? Que?” (Yes, this is where you came in.)

Alas, then I remembered that as I was about 4 minutes from my house, I realized I’d left my cell phone in my closet because someone called me as I was getting ready to leave. I thought, “Eh, I won’t need it!”

I needed it.

Always go back for the cell phone! After all, unexpected emergencies are why you have it! (Yeah, emergencies, not to talk while you’re driving or buy one for your 8 year-old to text during detention, which is where she’ll be if she has a phone in the first place.)

So I started to drive home, and as I noticed I couldn’t see, I thought, “Nope, this’ll be the day that I die and take everyone on the street with me.”

I decided to turn around the corner and stumble into the Starbucks, and beg the mean man (must be hating his job like me) to borrow the store phone and get me a cup of water.

Then I called my mom 50 times because she doesn’t answer her phone when I call. (What is that??) And finally consented to call my dad. I don’t like to call him when I’m in trouble because 1) he grills me about why I need Mom, and 2) he totally freaks my mom out with misinformation. (Like when I was in the DART tunnel, drowning.)

When I couldn’t reach either of the 2 (count them 1, 2) numbers I actually know, I returned the phone and sat there thinking, “This will pass and I’ll drive home.” And then, the mean man at the counter gave me the phone again and said, “It’s a man.”

Thanks for that.

It was Dad. When he said Mom was busy, I told him I needed him to call someone to pick me up at this Starbucks. But, because of the way he tends to be, I didn’t get a chance to say that I left my phone at home… And so, 5 minutes later, the man handed me the phone again and it was Mom.

Cue the crying.

Thankfully, moms are better than dads at getting stuff done for their sick children, and 45 minutes later, Grandma picked me up.

Verdict: Dehydration?

As my first-born crab - not really, as he’s smaller than Clem - er, uh, first-acquired, last-born - he’s special to me. And not only because I called him Clementine the first whole day. He’s outgoing, and moves around a lot (in his sweet little pink shell), and is too little to pinch! Not that he would want to. Naming him took a while because I wanted it to be something big and meaningful. I was clinging to Castro for a while. There’s something funny about a tiny pink crab named Castro. Anyway, there was a vote for Otto, because it sounds like a crazy old man’s name (and he’s a hobbly crab?). But, as I love Harry Potter, Aberforth won out. (You know, Dumbledore’s even crazier brother.) All three names are a little nutty, to be honest. And in honor of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, I’ve decided to combine and dub my crab Otto Aberforth Filius Castro. Yeah, I threw Filius in there just for fun.

And it wasn’t long before Aberforth was living up to his legacy-of-crazies name.

You must know, the first thing he does when I put him down anywhere is run.

And he’s fast.

More fast than I imagined a tiny little crab could be. Especially considering I could put Clementine down on the floor for an hour and she wouldn’t move. In fact, any time she senses I’m even looking in her direction, she pops back in her shell. Anyway - so considering he’s a quarter size crab, I thought I’d be safe to leave him in my room in order to take Clementine into the bathroom to lure her out of her hidey hole. But, when I came back, Aberforth was not where I left him. In fact, he was not even in the direction of where I left him. I called my brother in, and we searched… As a last resort, I looked in my closet.

At least he has good taste.

But that’s not all! Not 30 minutes later, I thought I could leave him on the floor of my bathroom while I went to get some filtered water. I even closed the door! Apparently he can fit under the crack, as he was nowhere to be found when I returned. I searched everywhere. I even put my boots in the middle of the bathroom floor just in case. Then, just as I resigned myself to having to tell my mother I’d lost a crab in her house and we’d probably find it dead in two weeks… my brother, who lives alllll the way down the hall, came up to me, dumped the crab in my hand and said, “Keep this thing in its cage.”

Oops.

How did he get all the way over there!!

So, I was looking for myself a job on Craigslist today. Instead of finding one for me, I found one for my friend Josiah, who doesn’t even need a job.

How silly is that?

It drives me nuts when people waffle about things. I don’t waffle about many things, but I am a big hypocrite when it comes to big things.

I’ve decided that I need to marry a cowboy.

I’m not a city girl. I’m not. Ever since my parents bought this franch (farm/ranch), people have been asking what I’m going to do. Well, I have to stay in the Dallas area for a while. They seem relieved. That gets me annoyed, so I add, “But I would love to go with them,” which makes them give me a puzzled look. I am not a city girl! I just like nice shoes, okay?!

So I need to marry a cowboy. Like this crazy, cool lady. [Read more]

For the last several years, every time this holiday comes around, I talk about wanting to go somewhere to (1) see awesome fireworks, (2) have a grilled hotdog (with GF bun), and (3) have cheesecake icecream.

Every year, this does not happen. So far since I’ve been saying this, none of my friends have done anything. At all. Remotely celebratory. So I listen to fireworks from inside my house. (Okay, so last year I may have been in Hawaii, and the year before, I watched Six Flags fireworks from the balcony of my cousin’s house in Cali.)

This near, a new friend took it upon himself to get a party together. But, I don’t think it’s going to involve my dream. Also, I have to get up at 3:50 the next morning, so my night will be short.

But, some day, someone will surprise me with my dream 4th of July.

In fact, tonight Mom said that next year, she will. But I’ll have to drive to the franch to get it.